HAZEL
I sat at my vanity in my babygirl pyjamas, the loose fabric hanging off one shoulder while I tried to coax my hair into something presentable. The strands kept slipping through my fingers. I huffed and started over, gathering the sections again.
The door opened without warning. Mother swept in with that particular grace she always carried, like she was floating rather than walking. She came up behind me and took the brush from my hand.
"Let me help you with that."
Her fingers worked through my hair with practiced ease. I watched her face in the mirror. She had that look. The one that meant she was about to disappoint me.
"I apologize," she said, her voice soft. "I will not be able to go shopping with you tomorrow."
I waited. There was always more.
"Your father has business and I have to be in his arms."
She leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of my head. The gesture felt automatic. Rehearsed.
"You understand, right?"
"I do."
